Night Serenade
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Phil's crush visits him during the night, playing outside his window in the lead-up to Valentine's Day. Only Phil thinks that it's a dream, and it's all too real. Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this. Capsicoul songfic! High school AU, no powers AU.


"Night Serenade"

The singing was faint, but audible, and it was coming from outside Phil Coulson's window. The teen stumbled out of bed and cracked open the pane, just enough to see properly. When he recognised his visitor, he pushed the window up the rest of the way, and stared, jaw dropping, as Steve freaking Rogers sang, accompanying himself on the guitar.

"_The desert song calling, its voice enthralling, will make you mine_," he finished, and he grinned as he strummed the last chord. Phil gazed down from the upper level of the two storey house, his heart thumping as his secret crush smiled at him.

"Wha…?"

"Should I start again, or sing something else?" Steve asked.

"Uh…" Phil swallowed. "W-whatever you want."

"As you wish," Steve said softly. Phil could hear it in the still night air. That was the great thing about living in the suburbs. That, and everyone who went to school lived near each other.

He settled back on the window seat before his legs could give out, and marvelled at what was happening as Steve looked up, and began to play a new song.

"_Some day when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight_." He smiled nervously. "I know you like these kind of songs."

"Love them," Phil whispered, and he leaned against the glass, completely incapable of dragging his eyes away from the scene.

"_Ah, but you're lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you and the way you look tonight_."

Love. Love. He sang 'love'. It's just part of the song, he told himself. But he couldn't help hoping.

"_With each word your tenderness grows…_"

It didn't stop at one song. After 'The Way You Look Tonight', Steve performed 'Strangers in the Night', 'My Foolish Heart', 'Night and Day', and a couple of other songs which mentioned night-time. Phil decided that this all had to be a dream, and that the music choices were indicative of that. But he enjoyed it, and was sad when Steve finally stood his guitar beside his legs.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," Phil said.

"So…"

"Thank you for the concert," Phil said, and he bowed his head, cheeks heating up. "It was… unexpected."

"I have plans for Friday – I hope so, anyway, for after school – and since we don't have any classes together tomorrow I thought this would be a good time to do… well… this," Steve said, gesturing between himself and the window.

"Uh-huh?" Of course he had plans for Friday. Steve was always going out with his friends, or on a date. Phil knew all about it. Goddamnit, even in his dreams he didn't have a chance with Steve Rogers. "Well, thanks again. See you at school, I guess."

Then he reluctantly retreated to his bed and burrowed under the covers. He was so tired, and so ready to get over his crush. This was stupid, getting to the point of being ridiculous, and definitely already unmanageable. He wasn't even subtle, according to his foster siblings, Clint and Natasha. From tomorrow, he was going to be one hundred percent indifferent towards Ste— towards Rogers.

As he fell asleep, Phil failed to notice that he'd left his window open.

* * *

Steve's gut clenched painfully as Phil disappeared from sight. His step-brother Tony had told him that singing to Phil would get him a foot in the door. Well, window, but Steve had more than that planned. He wanted to ask Phil on a date for Valentine's Day on Friday. He was so sure that his feelings weren't one-sided… but now…

He gulped down the lump in his throat, and turned to head back for home. He'd tell Tony that his 'brilliant' plan hadn't worked. Phil seemed happy enough when Steve was singing, and he knew for a fact that Phil liked all those crooner hits, so it wasn't that. It was Steve he didn't like. Not in that way.

So he wrapped his jacket closer around his body and trudged the two blocks south to get back to the Rogers-Stark residence. Tears of frustration, embarrassment, and hurt welled up, and the cold air stung them. He screwed his eyes shut, nearly fell over a tree root, and chose to run instead. Anything to get back into bed before anyone noticed that he was missing, and could start asking questions about why he was out late with his guitar.

He got in safely, carelessly stuffed the instrument into its case, and shoved it under the bed. Then he fell onto the covers, yanked his pillow into his arms, and worried himself to sleep.

Stupid to think that his crush would be returned. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

* * *

"Phil, wake up, honey."

"Five more minutes, Mom," Phil said. Slurred, actually. But she always understood him.

"It's Monday morning," she said, continuing to prod him. Eventually, he rolled over. By this time, she was clucking her tongue, and walking over to his window. He watched her blearily.

"What's up?" he said, trying to get his brain in working order.

"Your window," she said, and she pulled it down. "I've told you before, you'll catch your death if you leave it open all night."

He frowned, and shoved his covers to his feet. "But I closed it, like always."

"Well, it was open when I came in this morning," she said. "So unless you sleep-walked…"

"Must've done," he said, and he rubbed his eyes. "I dreamed…"

"Yes, dear?" she asked, and she stroked his hair. He felt his cheeks heat up a little at the memory, and pushed her hand away gently.

"That I opened my window," he said. "That's gotta be it." She didn't need to know the rest of the dream. It was humiliating enough that he'd sleep-walked at all.

"Be more careful in your dreams," she said. "Breakfast is in ten minutes."

"Okay," Phil said, and he waited until she'd closed the door before he climbed out of bed and shuffled over to the window. Looking out, he remembered his vision from the night before, when Steve Rogers had been outside, and sang to him. He'd looked so gorgeous in the moonlight, and his voice was good, if untrained. No Dean Martin, of course. But he'd serenaded Phil…

Why would he open his window like that? It made sense in the dream; he could hear the music, and they could talk. Then he remembered the mention of Friday. Now he thought about it, Friday was Valentine's Day. That explained the dream. He wanted so badly to go on a date with Steve, maybe even receive a card from him. Not that that was ever going to happen.

Phil sighed, ran his fingers across the window sill, and went to get dressed for school.

"Dude, was that Rogers singing to you last night?" Clint asked, clapping Phil on the back as he passed him on the stairs. "Lucky son of a bitch."

Frozen on the steps, Phil prayed that he'd just misheard.

* * *

**I didn't mean for the story to go this long; it was supposed to be Steve serenading Phil, Phil thinking it was a dream and going back to bed, and Steve being hurt by this. Then it kind of got longer… Oops.**

**And no continuation is planned, for which I apologise. I'm sure we all of us have vivid enough imaginations to fantasise about what might happen at school. Phil confronting Steve, or Steve avoiding him, but all of it getting resolved eventually, perhaps through the intervention of friends and family. What do you all think happened next?**

**Please review!**


End file.
